The Measure of a Security Officer
by Kavery12
Summary: In which a security commander of lesser fame learns about Jo Harvelle's personal brand of diplomacy and inter-ship cooperation and Cupcake watches in vast amusement, knowing he should probably stop her...


I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural.

_This was an idea suggested by the marvellous Lita of Jupiter._

* * *

><p>"Well isn't this going to be fun," the <em>Enterprise<em>'s chief security officer muttered to himself. Usually he was more professional to offset his maverick captain but at the moment, the man known as Cupcake was finding his patience severely taxed.

He stared down at the PADD in front of him, flipping idly through its information. They were running a joint op and to be honest, he hated those. He had learned quickly that it was damned difficult to find security officers who actually utilized their brains as well as their muscles.

Cupcake had been one of those jarheads. He had been there. He had thought that a scary face and a phaser would solve everything. But like almost every crew member of the _Enterprise_, that starch had been knocked out of him in an instant by the _Narada_. The lesson learned from that hell-sent shakedown cruise was this: sometimes beating the problem with a stick didn't always work, especially if the problem was bigger than the stick.

Which was the dilemma currently staring him in the face. He was working on-planet with the USS _Los Angeles'_ security officer, coming up with a tactical plan to successfully storm an apartment building occupied by a very well-organized, well-armed group of rebels since the natives refused to take any more action against the highly organized and lethal group. The planet's leaders had promised to turn over some very lucrative crystals if Captain Kirk eradicated the rebels and Captain Kirk had entrusted the job to Cupcake.

Unfortunately, Cupcake's co-commander was very much a by the book man, disliked subterfuge and thought he was God's gift to security officers. Commander Neil Douglas, veteran ass-kicker and owner of a very square jaw, felt that a frontal assault up the twisty apartment stairs was the only way to contain the situation.

Cupcake felt like banging his head off the table.

Sending his men up twisty apartment stairs into the face of a very scarily efficient Gatling gun would result in a massacre. Sure, the Gatling gun was old school, hadn't been seen on Earth for centuries, but that didn't mean it couldn't rip massively bloody, life-ending holes in his security officers.

"Someone please help," he mumbled as Douglas continued blathering on about how this was going to be easy as tic-tac-toe, everything falling into line immediately.

And then the door to the conference room clacked open and Commander Jo Harvelle walked in.

Hallelujah.

Tough as nails, meaner than her captain and sharper than your average tack, Jo Harvelle was one of the best security officers Cupcake knew. If she had a drawback, it was that she didn't know when to quit (and that Cupcake could throw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, but if he was going to attempt that feat he'd better make damn sure she was unconscious first).

"Hey Enterprise, what's shaking?" Jo asked casually, parking herself at the table and nodding to Douglas.

The other reason Cupcake liked working with Jo: she never called him Cupcake in front of an unknown entity. He was kind of proud of his nickname in a perverse sort of way, but it always undermined his authority in front of other alpha males. Jo called him Enterprise and made it sound badass.

"You've seen the file?" he jumped right in.

"Yep. Starfleet sent me and my boys in to assist. Real mess on our hands, right?s"

Douglas sneered and Cupcake blinked. He'd run into people who weren't entirely comfortable with a five foot four security officer before but this was rather blatant for someone actually within Starfleet. Surely Douglas knew that kick-ass came in all shapes and sizes.

"And if you just give us your men sweetheart, we'll take care of it for you," the _Los Angeles_ officer began patronizingly and Cupcake sat back to watch the fireworks.

Jo raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, propping her elbows on the wooden table. "Oh really?" she drawled sarcastically, her Midwestern accent thickening.

"Really, darlin'."

"Well, that's real nice of you an' all," Jo assured, "but I prefer to take a hands-on approach. Keep an eye on things, if you will, make sure my boys don't get into trouble."

Douglas scowled. "You think I can't handle this?"

Jo grinned sharply. "I know you can't handle my men."

Douglas bristled and clenched his big manly jaw. "I've been a security officer – "

"I know your record," Jo cut him off, "and I know that your casualty rate is through the roof. You've also received several reprimands for careless command. I am not entrusting my very limited number of security officers to a commander who will not show due concern for their lives. Either you can work with me or I'll take myself back up to the _Impala _and put a hold on this mission until another security commander can be assigned as per Starfleet regulation."

Cupcake wanted to whistle but managed to restrain himself.

Douglas flushed ribald crimson and clenched his fists. Jo sat back in her chair, supremely comfortable and confident.

"So. Your plan?"

Douglas took the opportunity to distract all parties involved and outlined his awesome, epic, deadly stupid idea.

"Well that's a retarded plan."

Yep, Cupcake loved working with Jo Harvelle.

Douglas turned that unhealthy colour again and started to shake. Maybe if the man suffered an aneurism, they could leave him in the infirmary and run the op without him. Unfortunately, Douglas regained control and drew himself up haughtily. "This is the plan we're going with."

And Cupcake decided it was time to voice an opinion.

"Actually, I have some concerns as well," he began calmly and Douglas turned a wounded gaze on his fellow officer. Cupcake shrugged. "I think a compromise can be reached."

Why yes he could be nice about this since _Enterprise_ was contributing the most security officers to this venture and technically Cupcake was in charge. "I agree that a full frontal assault is suicide but I also think that it could be used as a successful distraction and diversion tactic. Dismissing it out of hand is a little harsh."

Jo acquiesced to his point with a nod. Douglas was still sputtering.

"Harvelle, you and your boys are decent snipers, right? We'll plant them at strategic points here, here and here," Cupcake planted pins on the old-fashioned paper map, "send in _Enterprise_ extraction teams here and here and the _Los Angeles_ men can run the frontal assault after we've managed to pitch a smoke bomb into the apartment. I don't want a massacre on our hands." He glanced up to see Jo engaged in the plan, nodding in agreement while Douglas sulked like an eight-year-old girl who'd gotten her hand slapped.

Sometimes, Cupcake was a little ashamed of his gender.

"I'll coordinate from the base," he volunteered. Someone had to direct the op and the two security officers glaring at each other sure as hell weren't going to let the other take charge.

Douglas looked ready to protest but Jo shrugged. "I'm cool with that."

"Problem, Douglas?" Cupcake turned on his own badass security commander stare just a bit.

"No."

"Excellent."

* * *

><p>Of course it didn't go according to plan. Of course Douglas was a prick. Now Cupcake had an apartment full of screaming hostages, a shattered <em>Los Angeles<em> strike team and a situation spiralling rapidly out of control.

"Harvelle, report," he barked out.

"Rebels escalating, they've got Douglas as hostage now as well. Ten out of fifteen _LA _men are down, probably permanently."

"Shit."

"Yeah. I'm open to suggestions."

Cupcake rubbed his forehead and stared at his PADD. They only had a few cameras in place and the video quality sucked. They couldn't negotiate with the rebels anymore – the leader had said that the next attempt to contact them would result in one hostage dead.

At this point, he'd give them what they wanted, but the rebels wanted all people not affiliated with their sect off the planet and in order for that to fly, Captain Kirk would have to convince the idiot prime minister of said planet that he indeed had a rebel problem and by that point, the leader would have killed everyone but Douglas. And the only reason Douglas would still be alive would be so that the rebels could disappear into the woodwork. Again.

"Harvelle, what do you think about an old-school infiltration? Throw in a bunch of stun grenades, do this fast and dirty."

There was a brief crackle of static over the connection.

"I don't see any other option."

They weren't their captains. They didn't come up with brilliant, crazy plans. They stuck with what they knew, applied it in creative ways and made it work, no matter what.

"All right. Harvelle, you handle the infiltration. Leader first, Gatling gun second. Once the gun's out of the way, my team will charge the door, get the hostages out. You subdue the rebels. Any questions?" he asked the whole group, knowing that every officer was listening in.

Silence was his answer. _Impala_ and _Enterprise_ crew members were damned good at their jobs and honestly, all he had to do was point and shoot with them on his side.

"Giotto?"

Everyone froze at the sound of Cupcake's real name. Cupcake raised both eyebrows as far as they would go, almost dropping his PADD in surprise.

Douglas still had his earwig. Not good. Especially if he started talking and the leader figured out Douglas was still in contact with them. He could take the earwig from the security commander and they'd have no way of knowing. Shit.

"You can't pull this off. Listen to me."

Oh, Cupcake was going to _kill_ the idiot. Now was not the time to break radio silence _or_ to chicken out. Douglas had gotten them into this mess, the least he could do was shut up and let them get him out of it.

"Douglas, shut up and sit still," Jo snapped briskly over the channel, saving Cupcake the time and breath. He immediately cut Douglas' earwig out of the listening loop just in case - they could hear what Douglas said, Douglas couldn't hear them.

"All right people, move in five."

Suited up in an _Impala_-issue protective vest (Cupcake didn't know where or how Dean Winchester came up with them but he and most security commanders had always thought Starfleet's no-protective-gear policy ridiculous), he was ready to go in three minutes later.

"In place?"

Clicks resounded all around, everyone tapping their comm in readiness.

"Go in three, two, one."

* * *

><p>Jo was not having a great day. Thus when she and her crew busted into that apartment building like superheroes, she took great pleasure in stunning the first three rebels in her sight, back-fisting another with brutal efficiency and slamming a roundhouse kick into the knees of a fourth before booting the tripod holding the Gatling gun down the stairs where the<em> Enterprise<em> kids could look after it.

Seconds later, she spun around to find that sharp new security officer Jess Merran holding the leader firmly in a beautiful joint lock. "Tell your men to stand down," Jo snapped.

The leader leered in defiance until Merran twisted the man's arm just that much more, cranked it around until the psycho flinched and cried out. When one of his men tried to bounce up and help him, Jo rammed a kick into his ribs and put him back on the floor. "Someone get Douglas and the _LA _officers out of here," she ordered briskly, aware that the apartment building was still crawling with rebels and while yeah, they were good enough to take the central location out, these rebels had been damned pesky with their chain of command.

Usually rebels weren't organized enough to have more than one leader. Take him out and the rest folded like a deck of cards. Unfortunately, these rebels had demonstrated a very thorough understanding of this fact and they would carry out their self-imposed tasks to the bitter end.

"Cupcake?"

"Clearing the building as we speak. Hostages clear. Keep your head up, sounds like one of their lieutenants is going to attempt a rescue."

He had it under control. Good.

"Set a perimeter and – " she stopped and glared. "What the hell is he still doing here?"

Her 2IC looked distinctly harried. "He refuses to go, sir, and I can't order him." Douglas smirked and Jo could feel a headache coming on. Hearing the clatter and scrape of someone trying to infiltrate through the window, Jo briefly considered pitching the contrary idiot out said window, just as a distraction.

"Hook him up with the others," she ordered and had the unparalleled pleasure of seeing the security officer's mouth drop open in disbelief. To her officers' credit, they didn't even blink. Neil Douglas found himself cuffed and linked to a psychotic rebel leader in ten seconds flat, just in time for Jo to punch the rebel coming through the window and send him down four stories to the cobble-stoned street.

Then of course, everything went to hell in the best way possible and Jo got to take all of those nasty emotions out on the helpful rebels who just begged to have their asses handed to them on a silver Starfleet-regulation platter.

When she almost slammed a knife into Cupcake's face (she'd passed her phaser off to one of her sharpshooters), Jo paused to look around.

"We won?"

* * *

><p>Cupcake was very, very glad that he was bigger than Captain Kirk at the moment because Jo Harvelle had clearly been aiming for his eye with that knife and just couldn't quite reach after a prolonged fistfight, arm trembling in his grip with fading adrenaline, lactic acid and pure exhaustion.<p>

Then she snapped out of battle haze and blinked.

"We won?"

He nodded and hoped she'd put the knife away sometime soon.

Sure enough, the weapon flickered back up her sleeve and Jo straightened from a fighting crouch. "_Impala_ team report!" her voice cracked out like a whip and she fell into step with him.

Casualties were lower than they'd expected on the _Impala_ and _Enterprise_ teams although the _Los Angeles_ would have to replace most of their security complement. Cupcake strode into the apartment that passed for rebel headquarters and stopped dead.

"Jo?" he asked cautiously.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "He was being an ass. Undermining orders. Placing the operation at risk."

Yep, Commander Neil Douglas was sitting back to back with the rebel leader, a set of cuffs around his wrists as the few survivors of the _LA _team tried to ignore the fact that their commander was essentially under arrest.

"Giotto, get me out of these cuffs!" Douglas squawked and Cupcake frowned thoughtfully. If he did let Douglas out, he'd be undermining Jo's authority. He was pretty sure though that if he asked nicely, Jo would voluntarily release Douglas.

The real question was did he actually want Douglas out of the cuffs?

* * *

><p>Commander Sam Winchester smiled nicely at the irritating admiral on the screen. He had been elected (translation: shanghaied) spokesperson for the events that had transpired over in the rebellious section of the planet while the captains made nice with the squabbling planet leaders.<p>

He had been sitting pretty up on the _Impala_, happily running a scan and monitoring the whole situation in peace and quiet. He should have known it wouldn't last and now he was paying for it.

"Look Admiral, I'll admit that Commander Harvelle's solution to the conflict between teams was irregular and a little harsh but if you'll look at the casualty statistics of the teams involved as well as the effective action taken, I trust you'll find that Commander Douglas was not acting prudently. Commander Cu-Giotto from the _Enterprise_ concurs and is willing to testify as to discrimination evidenced against Commander Harvelle by Commander Douglas."

He could see Jo making a "Take _that_" face and sent her a quick glower. He was trying to keep his security officer, not look like a badass. The newly minted Admiral Vance hummed thoughtfully, crossing his hands on the desk and thinking hard.

"I'll grant that Commander Douglas was hindering the operation. Commander Harvelle," and Jo snapped to attention, thank goodness, because Sam didn't really know this admiral yet and between Dean and Jo they were making their usual unorthodox and somewhat shitty first impression, "I trust that next time you will act in a more diplomatic manner with regards to your fellow commanders."

Jo saluted crisply and Sam breathed a sigh of relief before dismissing her.

"Now, about Captain Winchester," he began, wading into the real problem and Admiral Vance's face tightened up.

* * *

><p>"Thanks Sam," Jo said sincerely an hour later when a tired Sam exited the ready room and slumped at his station on the bridge.<p>

"Yeah, thanks Sam," Dean chirped with cheerful insincerity and Jo kicked his shin like a kid sister.

"Be nice. I had a legit reason to clap my guy in irons. What did the ambassador do to you and Kirk again? What was it? Huh?" Dean scowled and muttered. "I can't hear you!" Jo sing-songed and darted out of reach when the captain glared.

"Seriously Sam, thanks," Dean reiterated and Sam looked vaguely mollified.

"Well. It helps that Admiral Vance was surprisingly reasonable once I could prove the facts. And corroboration from the _Enterprise_ didn't hurt."

"Speak of the devil," Dean commented as his captain's chair buzzed (Sam had gotten sick of routing Kirk through the switchboard every time and had monkeyed around with the comm system to direct _Enterprise_ calls directly to Dean).

"Just so you know, I'm still pissed about losing Ensign Merran," Kirk began grumpily as his bridge crew tried to hide smirks. Clearly he had gotten in more trouble than Dean for using the natives' dessert course as a "tactical distraction for the purposes of securing the assassin" (upon reflection, clobbering Spock in the face with strawberry chocolate trifle had been a bad idea).

Dean grinned wordlessly. Sam had been the one to file the request and as such, Jim had had to challenge Dean's brother to rock-paper-scissors for the security officer.

Sam had yet to lose a rock-paper-scissors match and the _Impala_ had kept the ensign.


End file.
